


Beneath the waves

by Toinette93



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caves, Disregards TATV, Does not include any submarines yellow or otherwise despite what the title may suggest, Drown Malcolm Reed Month, Drowning, Gen, Malcolm's Aquaphobia, Or is set before it, Plotty, Post-Canon, Pre-Romulan Wars, Rescue Mission, Romulans, Scuba Diving, Section 31 (Star Trek), Space Battles, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: "Trip keeps on looking back and forth between Hoshi and the data he has in front of him. They have a precise location for Malcolm’s transponder signal. And what it is pointing to is that their tactical officer, Trip’s best friend, is most likely under water.  Unless Trip’s mistaken, Malcolm ain't got no gills."It's been a few months since Harris asked for the debt from Terra Prime to be repaid. Then the Enterprise get news from their armoury officer and they have to get him out of a sticky situation.ORI tried to drown my Malcolm and then plot happened.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer & Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Jonathan Archer & Malcolm Reed, Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 20
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks,  
> Promise made, promise kept, here is my contribution to the Drown Malcolm Reed Month tradition.  
> I hope you people enjoy it ! I know I had a lot of fun writing that one.   
> This is all written. I'll aim to post at least a chapter everyday, and try to have it all up by the end of the month.   
> Don't hesitate to come and tell me what you thought in the comment.   
> Take care out there.   
> Toinette

“We’re in orbit, captain” says Travis Mayweather at the helm. 

Even his voice lacks its usual happy excitement. The atmosphere on the bridge is grim.

“Thank you, Ensign” says Archer. He is sitting very straight on his seat, ready to spring up at the first alarm, trying very hard not to pace. 

“Hoshi, is the transponder still working?”

“Yes sir.”

“Any change?”

“No, sir, just the activation signal, nothing more.”

Archer nod s .  He ha s  a bad feeling about this. Not for the first time he  finds himself thinking about his decisions around the whole Terra Prime affair, wondering if he could have done things differently, still not finding any answer. He look s around at his bridge crew. T’Pol  is looking at her data,  she  will soon have a report for him concerning the planet they  are orbiting. They  have been unable to get any  intel from long-range sensors, something about the planet confused the hell out of them. Archer  can not help but notice that she h as lost weight since the Terra Prime incident, however illogical it may be to eat less  because of grief. She seem s to be doing a little bit better lately, as far as he  can tell, but the ordeal ha s made her close  down on herself even more than usual. He misse s her sense of humour.  And she definitely has one, however unlikely he may have found the notion at the beginning of their voyage s . 

Trip  is next to Hoshi, looking over her shoulder, they  are working together to  determine the precise origin of the signal they’ ve been chasing across several light years of space.  The engineer look s tense, too, and despite his concentration, his gaze ke eps on going to the tactical station on the bridge.  The station is manned not by their usual resident Brit, but by a petite woman, Ensign Inès Choudi, that they  have all learnt not to underestimate in the past few month of combat training. However competent she may be,  though , she  is not Malcolm Reed,  an absence deeply felt by all the bridge crew. 

Archer  shakes his head and look s more closely at the planet displayed on the viewscreen. Clouds cover the whole surface, and the few places where the naked eye  can see anything  are covered in liquid. The planet  is in the habitable region of its star. A few moment later, T’Pol’s head  perks up from her console:

“The planet is Minshara-class, oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, temperatures slightly below Earth normals, at about 12°C. Surface is 82.5% water, with a large number of smaller continents.”

Archer listen s to the rest of the report, through a sense of relief. The planet  is capable of sustaining human life. There  is a possibility Malcolm could be alive. T’Pol mention s traces of complex metallic alloys, in the vicinity of one of the small islands that dot the planet. She  will need to run further scans, probably send a probe, to determine its location more precisely, but  the alloy  is certainly of artificial origin, probably not from the planet itself – T’Pol had reported that “Although individual life signs  are still impossible to detect without further scanning, an indigenous sentient species would most likely have been detectable”, so  she could only presume that there  is none. The alloy  is not one that  is used on Earth, Vulcan, or as far as T’Pol  can tell, Andoria. T’Pol’s former connection with the Vulcan ministry of Security meant that she probably  can tell. And it  is coherent with what Trip had to say about  some unusual sensors reading, some  weird looking warp trails, that they ha ve also detected: 

“I don’t think even the Vulcan would build somethin like that, cap’n. The thing it looks the most like is that Romulan remote-controlled ship we encountered last year.”

Romulans. Last time it had been Klingons. What has the Section gotten Malcolm into this time? And more importantly, can they get him out alive? Their current position is closer to Earth than what Archer knows of where the Romulans are supposed to be, which is concerning, even if his knowledge is limited. Hell, nobody even knows what they look like. He supposes the Section knows something they don’t. And they won’t share any of it unless they absolutely have to. Thinking about Harris brings the usual anger Archer feels towards the man. It is the second time the agent has put his armoury officer in an impossible situation, and this time, might even get him killed. At least, Harris has given him the information necessary to have a shot at getting him back. Not that Archer has any confidence in the motive behind the gestures. There is no such thing as free assistance as far as the Section is concerned, Malcolm’s absence at this very moment is proof of that. And somehow, Jonathan Archer does not believe Harris’s assurances that he just disagreed with his own superiors concerning their decision to abandon Malcolm to his fate. With trepidation, he waits for the probe sent by Travis to bring back its more precise data. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harris and Archer talk

_29 hours Earlier_

Porthos  barks . There  is a beeping noise coming from the console in Archer’s quarter, but the captain, fast asleep after a long and boring star-charting day,  doesn’t hear it. The dog’s bark  does elicit some reaction, though. Archer  groans .

“What, Porthos? It’s the middle of the night!”

Porthos bark s again, and Archer blearily  gets up,  noticing the beeping console. Who could that… Then he recognize s the encoding. It  isn’t routed through the communication’s console on the bridge. Immediately, Archer  is awake. Harris. He quickly put s on his uniform and  takes the call. He hope s it’ s news from his armoury officer. It ha s been months, and, frankly,  he is starting to worry. 

The grey-haired face of the Section handler fills the screen.

“Good evening captain. I did not realise it was that late on your ship, but the information I have is urgent.”

Archer frankly doubts Harris’s claim of his ignorance. The agent is probably enjoying catching him in a vulnerable state. Not even remotely trying to sound amicable, Archer answers. 

“Harris. I hope you have information about my officer.”

His officer. Not Harris’s. Malcolm is his responsibility, and this time, did come to his captain the moment Harris made contact. He still accepted the mission. One Archer did not and still does not know anything about. Malcolm did not particularly want to go, Archer knows that. Trip, who’d learnt some if not all of the story along the way certainly tried to stop him. _I have my orders._ Malcolm said, and Archer hates that there are orders his officer felt he could not refuse. He did let him go, there was no going against the man’s sense of honour and obligation. Harris’s next sentence makes him wish he had fought harder, a guilt-filled voice in his head reminding him that part of his decision to let Reed go had had to do with keeping the possibility to get some help from the section again open. 

“Lieutenant Reed has been detected by enemy forces and has been declared Missing in Action, presumed dead.”

MIA. The shock hit s Archer pretty hard.  Malcolm is missing and  will not been searched for.  Jonathan is not stupid.  He knows what kind of mission Malcolm has probably been on. Some sort of intelligence gathering, black ops.  For a spy, being captured by the enemy – whoever that may be, and Earth had made quite a lot of those in the past few years –  could well mean summary execution. If he  is lucky.  And Malcolm isn’t exactly known for his luck.  Archer  shakes his head.  He almost  misses the second part of the sentence.

“Some more recent information have made me… reconsider this position, however. A sub-dermal transponder the lieutenant had been equipped with, meant for periodical check-ins when communicators cannot be used started transmitting again. It is incapable of sending any information apart from the agent’s position – encoded obviously. There is a high probability this is a trap, of course. Enemy forces might have figured out how to transmit even after the Lieutenant’s death. Lieutenant Reed could have been forced to activate his beacon. But he could also have escaped.”

Cursing Harris for the roller-coaster of emotion he  is forcing him through Archer still  thinks to ask. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

I t's  not like the Section agent to volunteer any information.  There must be some sort of ulterior motive.

“The Section has decided to disregard this information and not to resume the search. The risk of it being a trap is too great. The mission Lieutenant Reed was on had been completed before his capture. All the information the Lieutenant was liable to give the enemy has already been rendered harmless. A rescue mission was deemed too dangerous to attempt.”

T here is a dangerous edge to Archer’s voice as he cuts through Harris’s speech.

“So you just abandon him. After he risked everything…”

“Every agent is aware of that possibility going in, Captain. An organisation such as ours cannot afford to blow its cover by barging in guns blazing. Besides, Lieutenant Reed had been quite adamant this would be his last mission with us.”

Archer is seething, but he cannot let his anger get the better of him. Harris must have a reason to be telling him all this. The man is a cold and cruel bastard, but never pointlessly so. 

“Malcolm’s not your agent anymore… he’s my officer.”

“Exactly my point, Captain. And your branch of Starfleet is of the opinion that no man should be left behind, is it not? Captain, I believe the decision to pronounce Malcolm MIA was made too early, and I think there might be a possibility for you to rescue your officer that my organisation cannot afford. And I, for one, would begrudge loosing such an efficient operative. This past few months have taught us to never say never, have they not?”

“Just give me the information, Harris.”

“I am transmitting you the transponder frequency and what you’ll need of its specifications as we speak, Captain. You’ll find it is emitting from a sector about a day away from your current position at maximum warp. I suppose I don’t have to tell you this is sensitive information.”

Communication over, Archer looks at the information. He is going to need Hoshi, and probably Trip on that one. It’s not making much sense to him. Malcolm just might be alive, and he is going to do whatever is in his power to get him back. He owes the man as much. Frankly, the whole ship does. Trying to figure out Harris’s plans in all this will have to wait. A tired smile grows on the captain’s face, as he imagines what his tactical officer would have to say to that, and more generally to the ship being put into danger to save him. Well, that is one occasion in which Archer will disregard Lieutenant Reed’s opinion. They are getting him out. If he is still alive, they are getting him out. Which does not mean that they will not exercise caution. Not sparing a thought for the hour of the night, Captain Jonathan Archer calls for an immediate meeting of his senior staff. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there,
> 
> I hope I'm not mixing my spy-masters too much and there isn't too much Sloan and Tain in my Harris. He isn't an easy man to write. 
> 
> Comments are very much apreciated. 
> 
> Live long and prosper, folks
> 
> Toinette


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landing on the planet.

Trip keeps on looking back and forth between Hoshi and the data he has in front of him. They have a precise location for Malcolm’s transponder signal. And what it is pointing to is that their tactical officer, Trip’s best friend, is most likely under water. Unless Trip’s mistaken, Malcolm ain’t got no gills, and Trip has noticed Malcolm is pretty uncomfortable around water. The few times they were on shore-leave, Malcolm never went anywhere near the beach, and Archer told him not to insist. You have to know how to swim to get into Starfleet but the bar is not very high: not that many occasions to swim in space. Malcolm could have drowned. There is still no certainty concerning life-signs. And with what T’Pol’s sensor are telling her about the state of what was definitely a small ship, most likely some sort of shuttle, crashed on the planet surface, pretty much on Malcolm position, there ain’t no way that thing is still water-tight. The signal is supposed to stop if Malcolm dies. But they cannot know how accurate that even is, how much the apparatus has been tempered with. And even if that’s still true, even if Malcolm is still alive for now, they’re gonna have to stage a complex, underwater rescue-mission, and they might still get there too late. Hoshi nods. She has come to the same conclusions and turns to the captain, to sum up their findings to him.

Trip needs Malcolm to be ok. Nobody has given him the whole context, but he knows Malcolm has gone on that mission of his because he owed something to the organisation ordering it, and to the man Archer has talked to last night, Harris. The same name that had popped up when Malcolm had been thrown in the brig when Phlox had been captured by Klingons, and again, during the Terra Prime debacle. Thinking about those event still hurts, even if a year has passed since then. But Trip knows Malcolm has done something to get him, T’Pol and Elizabeth out and he is pretty sure it has something to do with why he’s had to leave five months ago. The engineer does not want to be responsible for one more person dying. The Cogenitor, Sim, they are enough. More than enough, far too much. After his sister, and his daughter… if he were to loose his best friend… But they’re going to get him out. He listens to Archer and T’Pol figuring out a rescue plan. T’Pol is mapping out underwater caverns, in the direct proximity of where Malcolm’s shuttle crashed. They might need to go scuba-diving underground to get him out of there.

The one remaining question is: who’s on the team? Archer has already decided he’s going, T’Pol’s arguments to the contrary notwithstanding. Trip could have predicted that one. Crewman Cutler, from medical, will also be there, as well as two MACOs.

“Capn’n, I’d like to be included on the mission. I’m a good swimmer, grew up on the coast of Florida. Even did quite a lot of scuba-diving in my days.”

Archer takes a long look at Trip, and nods, taking one of the MACOs off the team. They both know being a swimmer has very little to do with it, although it could certainly come in handy. Trip just needs to be there. And they both trust T’Pol and Hess enough to know the ship will be in good hands in their absence, even if they should be attacked.

On the shuttle flight to the surface, nobody talks much. Archer is at the helm, and the ride is a rocky one. The atmosphere, while perfectly breathable, is rocked by thermals and winds. The small shuttle gets tossed around, and it takes all of the captain’s skill to keep it on course. The MACO, Private Leandra Mazzoli looks at her weapons, checking them again. Cutler rechecks the medical supplies, her small frame held into place by the seatbelt and her hand on the armrest. Trip’ eyes are on the shuttle’s engine output, feeding information to Archer, looking periodically at the signal from Malcolm’s transponder, making sure it’s still there. When a particularly strong jolt almost throws him out of his chair, sending Cutler’s padd to the floor and prompting a “sorry” from Captain Archer, Trip thinks that, by now, Malcolm would have been white as a sheet, trying very hard not to throw up. He finds himself hoping that’s exactly what Reed will be doing, on the way back. It is kind of weird to wish motion sickness on a friend, he supposes, but you do need to be alive to get it in the first place.

The shuttle lands on the small island a couple of hundred meters from the origin of the signal. Cutler, Mazzoli, Archer and Tucker deploy a floating platform and on top of the sunken down shuttle. They have lifesigns now, one human is alive somewhere over there. They sigh in relief, but the signal is garbled, no way to know how stable those life signs are. They put on scuba-diving equipment. The shuttle has sunken, twenty meters deep.

Mazzoli goes down first, followed by Archer. On this first dive, Tucker and Cutler stay on the platform, trying to get more accurate readings of their surroundings, trying to make the damn sensors work in that planet’s atmosphere, as Trip puts it. Trip looks, intently at the murky water, at the bottom of jaded rocks, where his captain and the MACO have disappeared. What is taking them so long? If Malcolm was easy to reach, they should have been back with him already, and if not, they should have come back to get a plan in motion. Then Archer’s head breaks the water first, followed by Mazzoli, who is gripping her captain’s shoulder. Trip and Cutler help her up, there is a nasty-looking wound on her right leg. Archer gets up on the platform too.

“You ok, cap’n?”

“Yeah, Trip, I’m alright. The shuttle’s unstable, there’s a major hull breach, water’s gotten inside, no air pockets left. The current almost sucked us out, it pushed a serrated panel edge into Mazzoli’s thigh. If Malcolm stayed in there, he’s dead.” He says, taking his gear off and passing a hand through his drenched hair.

“We still got lifesigns, Jon.” answers Trip.

“Then he found a way out.”

A curse from Mazzoli gets their attention back to their wounded crewmate. The Captain and Engineer turn to the two women.

“Crewman, you ok?” asksArcher

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s going to be fine, Captain.” says Cutler, finishing to bandage the wound. “I’d like to examine get her back to Dr Phlox, but her injuries don’t appear to be dangerous.”

“I can wait, captain.” says Mazzoli.

The lessening of the pained tension in her features brought on by the painkiller she has just been injected with makes her claim more believable. It is also clear she will not be swimming anymore that day. Archer puts a hand on her shoulder, his eyes showing his gratitude. They do not have time to get her back to the ship if they want to have any chance at getting Malcolm out. Looking at the sensor readings brought back from the wreck, the transponder signal appears to come from outside the shuttle, where the current is coming from. There is a cave opening in this direction. Malcolm must have been carried into the cave system. They could get in, the problem was to know how they’d get out. The current is far too strong. They’d get stuck. They need to find a solution, and fast. If their readings are right, and algae marks on the rock side seem to agree, the water is rising. Whatever air pocket Reed may have found might not last long. Then Cutler says:

“The moon. This place has a moon, right? And the water can’t keep on going up forever. There must be tides? Maybe the current changes when the tide goes down.. If it does not take too long…”

They are about half an hour from the highest of the tide, T’Pol, informs them, and her calculations say the current would then change. Back in gear, a third equipment and supply of oxygen carried between them, extra cave-diving equipment beamed down from the ship, Trip and Archer dive from the platform into the murky waters, ready to follow the current to Malcolm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks,
> 
> They've got some dangerous diving in front of them, don't they? 
> 
> Hope you had fun. From now on, I can promise more water-related drama ;-)
> 
> Take care !
> 
> Toinette


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip and Archer, in the caves.

The water  is cold. They  are in full, s c uba-diving gear, with a wetsuit, and yet, the water  is cold. With the equipment, the sensation soon disappear s , and it  becomes quite comfortable, but for a few moments, Trip ha s felt the cold, and he  can not help but think that Malcolm most likely  does not have the benefit of a wetsuit. The  ballast  gets them down to the shuttle.  The craft  is of a type Trip ha s never seen before, and  if the current  were not that strong he would have stopped to look at it more closely. As it  is , his engineer’s brain  is already trying to figure out the propulsion system. He ha s to focus on the dive, though. Archer and himself both ha ve some experience cave-diving, but not remotely enough for what they  are attempting to be entirely safe, as much as such an activity  can  ever be. Their sensors  are telling them Malcolm  is not far, they should no have to go more than one hundred meters in the cave, but a lot could happen in a hundred meters. 

Fighting the current that  is trying to suck them in, Archer and Tucker stop at the entrance of the cave to place a cave line and an extra tank of oxygen. The cave walls  are hard, getting a nail through them to attach the line  is taking forever, and Trip need s to call on all of his training to push down on his impatience. Every second they  are taking here  is one second that could make the difference between life and death for Malcolm, but they  can not afford to be hasty and get lost on the way back. All that would do would be to get all of them killed, and that sure as hell  isn’t the plan.

Even if the two of them lack recent experience cave-diving, their years in space and the calm urgency of extra-vehicular activity, repeated again and again, serve s them well. The tool that Trip drop s for a second  is immediately caught by Archer, and they cooperat e without a word, communicating with signs that had first been developed for divers centuries ago, had made their way to space exploration, and now  are finding their initial use again. 

Finally, the line  is set. Letting go of the wall Trip and Jonathan let the current take them. 

They  are being tossed the going  is rough, more than once, Trip feel s the walls scraping at his side.  W ithout the years of zero-g training,  Trip would have lost all sense of where he  is . As it  is , he  is happy that Archer, with his piloting skills and experience,  is the one keeping track o f Malcolm’s position. They  can only hopes that the currents ha ve not changed since Malcolm ha s gotten there, that there  will be enough space for them to go through with all their equipments,  as,  even with all their scanning, T’Pol’s maps  are far  from perfect. There  is no way they could go against that strong of a current. 

A bigger jolt pushes Trip straight into a pointed edge on one of the rocks, and as he huffs in pain. He feels the warmth of blood despite not being able to see his own shoulder in the non-existent visibility. Then his mask falls out of his mouth. Darnit, he can’t breath without that thing! In front of him, pushed further on, Archer hasn’t noticed. Alright, Trip, come on. The wound stings like crazy, there sure is salt in that water. The current is really, really, strong, but that arm has to push outwards if he wants to get his hand back on the mask. Come on you stupid mask, don’t get stuck in the rope. There, there, he’s got it. 

The current has quieted down. As he gets his mask back on, breathing in a grateful gasp of air, Archer has turned around, and is at his side, light in his face, his thumb and forefinger forming the OK sign to ask if he’s alright. Trip pushes back the light away from his face and confirms that he is, in fact, just fine, doing the sign right back at him. Even i n the dim lights of the torches, Trip knows that his captain has  noticed the blood, but his cursory check confirms there really isn’t much of it, the bleeding has already almost stopped. So as long as  there are no sharks, they’ re going to be just fine.  Archer nods, and looks at the transponder signal. The y are not far. That way. The captain’s light illuminates the cave they’re in, and as they start swimming upwards, towards where the signal say Malcolm is, they can’t help but admire the beauty of this deadly trap. 

There are drapes of stalactites and stalagmites all around them, glistening blue under the torchlight, giving their surrounding an almost surreal appearance. There is water everywhere, no air, as they go upwards and upwards, and once again, it gets tighter. Trip can imagine Malcolm swimming up, trying to escape the water, and he thinks that the current must have been even faster then, and the water lower because at the rate they moved, he can’t see how someone without oxygen  could have survived  that far .

Trip sees him first. He’s not far, he’s under water just under the ceiling in a small alcove, that must have contained some air  a little while ago.  Malcolm is still moving, thrashing aimlessly around in a frenzy,  and at seeing the flailing, Trip feels relief. Archer is a better swimmer, he gets to  Malcolm first  just as the flailing stops, grabs him,  and brings him to Trip.  T he armoury officer look s unnaturally pale  in the torchlight. He isn’t moving anymore . Trip puts the extra mask over his friend’s face and activates the air flow, hoping he is not too late.

* * *

A few minutes after Archer and Tucker’ s departure ,  Cutler’s communicator chirp s.

“Enterprise to landing party”

“Cutler here.”

“Have the Captain and Mr. Tucker dived already.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

T’Pol’s voice  is perfectly calm, as usual, but Cutler  can hear the sound of a rocking ship and  of a console exploding. 

“Crewman, we are under attack from  a Romulan  vessel . Since we cannot get you back to Enterprise at present, I would suggest y ou stay where you are.” Then there  is another explosion and the Vulcan add s . “Ensin Choudi, target their weapons.” More phaser fire. “Crewman Cutler, report to me as soon as you have any news from the Captain.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“T’Pol out”

The connexion  is cut and the quiet of the planet replace s the noise of the bridge in battle. Like Trip not long before him, Cutler look s at the water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there,
> 
> Finally Malcolm makes an appearance ;-). But next up, space battle folks !
> 
> Hope you're having fun with this. I know I am (*author laughs diabolically*)
> 
> Cheers
> 
> Toinette


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space battle

Even if they are expecting it and are in full alert – the unusual warp trail information enough that they are not alone – the ship still comes out of nowhere, decloaking from behind the nearest moon.

Ensign Choudi spots them first. She recognizes it from previous reports as a Romulan warbird. She has barely time to relay her findings and T’Pol not enough to order standard hails to be delivered: they are already firing, a shot on their forward hull, not at full capacity, the Romulan version of a warning shot. A voice comes through the ship’s coms:

“You have trespassed on the territory of the Romulan Empire. Stand down weapons and prepare to be boarded.”

T’Pol refuses the ultimatum, and offers to open diplomatic talks to resolve the issue. The Romulans close communications and a far more powerful shot meets the Enterprise dead on. Even with the hull-plating online, the ship still rocks badly under the impact, and it is immediately evident that they are very much outgunned. 

T’Pol’s voice, calm as ever, resonates on the bridge. 

“Mr. Mayweather, evasive manoeuvres. Ensign Choudi, try to target their weapons. Ensign Sato, hailing frequencies.”

It will not be said that T’Pol did not try to resolve matters peacefully. She does not understand the meaning of this sudden attack. Even if tensions are high, Earth and the Romulan Empire are not currently at war, and their previous encounters with the species suggested paranoia and territoriality but not that kind of overt and unprovoked aggression. She has surmised they were probably the ones who imprisoned Malcolm. Maybe their discovery of an active spy has been enough to push them to desiring war. She does not find this particularly logical, but it is no time for idle speculation. Enterprise is rocking under the Romulans’ assaults and her weapons do not appear to be making a dent in the enemy shields. 

“Commander” says Hoshi. “They are not responding to our hails, but I am still getting something.”

“What is it, Ensign?”

“I don’t know. I am only getting it when we are less that 50 km from them. I think it might just be some background noise from their engines, bleeding onto the com lines. But there is something odd about that noise. I don’t know what their engines are like, Commander, but it doesn’t sound… symmetrical.”

“Record your findings and send them to Hess, see if it could point out to some weakness in their engines.”

Hoshi nods, and obeys. A few years ago, T’Pol would not have heeded her claims, and she would not have been confident enough to make them. But the whole ship has grown to recognise her intuition, and though it might be nothing, they need all the possibility they can think of, because that ship is doing damage to them. 

Another shot rocks through the ship. Choudi grabs her console, keeping herself upright. 

“Hull plating is failing on B-Deck. If they hit us there again, we’ll have a breach. Dr Phlox is reporting five injured, no fatalities.”

“Choudi, photon torpedoes, full spread. Mr. Mayweather, give her a clear shot and then take us some distance from our opponents. You may use the moon as cover.”

Aye sirs and yes ma’ams are heard on the bridge, and the orders are carried out.

“Minor damage to their shields” Choudi reports, as another shot from their opponents grazes them, sending a few sparks flying T’Pol’s way. She calmly gets one spark away from her hair. 

The moon grants them a temporary respite, but it won’t last long. T’Pol examines their likelihood of success. It does not look good, but this crew has proven in the past that it is quite able at finding unlikely solution, and while she recognizes it is not entirely logical, she is loath to abandon their captain and officers before they are certain there is nothing they can do. She coms engineering. 

“Just a moment, commander.” Hess’s voice comes through the com, amongst the chaos that is engineering under battle. Then, a few seconds later. 

“I believe I have may have something, commander.”

“Proceed, Lieutenant.”

“I can’t quite make out how the Romulans’ engine work, it’s not a conventional warp drive, but Hoshi is right, there does seem to be an imbalance in their output. I don’t know if it’s normal or not, but there might be a way to take advantage of if, and use it to disable their shield.”

Hess is a very competent engineer in her own right, even if her talent have sometimes been overshadowed by her boss’s exceptional brilliance with engines. More importantly she’s cautious, far more than Trip is. The hesitation in her voice does not mean that her plan is any less good that one delivered with Trip’s usual flare and confidence. It is probably just as dangerous, though. 

For the plan to work, they are going to need the help of gravitational forces, some creative piloting, a few well-placed photon torpedoes, and for the Romulans not to see them coming. It’s dangerous, the chances of success are low, it will give them at best a few hours to get out of there, and yet T’Pol cannot see any credible alternative. She does not have time to ponder her decision, the shelter provided by the moon will only last for a couple more minutes. She orders Hess to implement the Engineering side of the plan, and turns to her bridge crew. 

Her orders given, they are quickly implemented and the Enterprise starts flying towards the planet, Travis practicing evasive manoeuvres that manage to avoid the brunt of enemy fire. Choudi keeps on firing, although Travis’s piloting means there is very little chance for her to touch anything, just to keep the Romulans on their toes, to not leave them time to think. The armoury crew has reported they have finished calibrating the two photon torpedoes they will need for the attack. 

Even though they have closed all communications, Hoshi is still hunched on her console. 

“Commander.” She says. 

“Ensign?”  
“I believe I might have a way to overwhelm the Romulans’ communication with white noise, just for a few seconds, if they are close enough when we get our plan in motion. It might give us a few seconds where they won’t be able to focus on what we’re doing.”

“Proceed.” 

They are ready. T’Pol nods to Travis, getting the plan in motion. The young pilot’s hands fly on the console, and the ship’s course veers towards the planet. They’re going to have to go a bit low in the atmosphere given the state of their plating if they want to get the Romulan where they need them to be, and this is going to be hard on their systems. Travis knows he cannot afford to fail. If that makes him nervous, there isn’t even the slightest tell on his face, the boisterous ensign showing almost Vulcan calm. The Romulans are on their tail. Archer would be smiling by them and Reed would have this half-smile lighting up his face. T’Pol’s expression is serene, as she gives her orders and Choudi is biting her lip.

“Ensign Sato, prepare to deliver the burst of white noise. Ensign Choudi, lock on target.”

Hoshi’s answer isn’t exactly regulation but gets her readiness across. Choudi acknowledges, her head staying down on her console, the picture of intense concentration. 

A few rolls and shots later, the Romulans are where they want them. 

“Fire.”

Choudi obeys, the two torpedoes go out in succession. A last shot from the Romulan hits them, but Travis, cursing, manages to maintain control of the ship, which, groaning and buckling, soars back into orbit. The first torpedo hits, disabling the shields. The second one hits their weapons straight on. Travis gets the Enterprise back towards the moon. 

“Ensign Choudi, report.”

“Direct hit. The Romulans weapons have been disabled. Their ship have cloaked and it appears that they are warping out.”

“Good. Damage report?”

“Minor hull breach on B-Deck. Hull-plating offline. Some damage to the warp nacelles. The drive is off-line”

“Casualties?”

“Sickbay reports twelve injured, five severely, no fatalities.”

“Bridge to Engineering.”

“Hess here.”

“How long until we have warp drive back?”

“Under an hour for warp 3, maybe two hours for full warp capacity.”

“Get on it.”

“Yes, ma’am”. 

Then T’Pol turns towards Hoshi.

“Ensign Sato, what about the captain?”

They had cut all communications during the encounter, not wanting the Romulan to get the captain’s position from them. 

“Ensign Cutler reports they haven’t re-surfaced yet. They are still well within the safety limits for their air supply, and the currents have just changed a few minutes ago. They should be back in the next twenty minutes”. 

T’Pol finds herself hoping the Romulans will not get back up in that short time. She orders the ship be placed in orbit around the planet, and prepares to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there,
> 
> Hope you liked it, that thing was really, really hard to write (note to self: perhaps someone who does not actually see 3D should not try and write a space battle). 
> 
> Come tell me in the comment how I did
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Toinette


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the caves, the way back.

The air flow’s going in, and Trip is attaching the extra oxygen tank he’s carried all the way there on Malcolm’s back. Archer is holding their armoury officer, who doesn’t seem to be conscious, head resting on his captain’s shoulder. At least, Trip’s just confirmed the man’s got a pulse. Their sensor readings were right on that much. In the low light, only illuminated by the their torch, getting the oxygen tank on is difficult work, but Trip manages it. The mask is getting air into Malcolm, as to how much oxygen he’s actually taking in, how much water got into his lungs, they just don’t know. For the moment, at least, he’s alive, and if they can get him back to the ship, they’re gonna keep him that way.

The intermittent light provided by the flashlight shows the extreme paleness of Malcolm’s face, and the blood seeping through dark clothing that has seen better days. Trip and Archer make sure everything is set: once the current changes direction they will not have any more time to make sure everything holds.  Trip wishes he could talk, ask Malcolm if he’s ok, tell him they’ve got him they’re gonna get him out of here. But being underwater, in scuba gear, means he can’t and so he keeps on making sure everything is set for their way back. 

A s he attaches the last straps, the torchlight beam focuses on Malcolm’s neck. The sight of the beating artery is welcome to the engineer, but what isn’t is the large patch of torn off skin, and the piece of hardware blinking underneath, some wires out. The transponder. That’s obviously been tampered with.  The scan says nothing has been added to it. Trip swallows hard, the taste of salted water acrid in his mouth. One more thing Phlox will have to take care of. And  Malcolm sure has hell seems to be cold. 

Archer, still holding on his armoury officer asks  by signs if Trip is done. They can feel the current slowly changing. Trip signals that he is ready.  He gets in the current first, and between Archer and himself, they get Malcolm after him. They follow the cave line. Thankfully, the current is a lot less brutal that when they got in, they even have to push a few time. It is also slower going, but they have enough air, and a reserve on the way out. 

H is  arm under his friend’s arm, Trip is going sideways, he can’t afford to go backwards in the caves. He can feel his back scraping on the rocks, and he is careful to protect Malcolm’s head, as much as he can. Behind them, Archer is keeping them on the right track, helping out by pushing when need be. Even with the current helping, it’s hard work, and it’s a good think they’re as in shape as they are. 

Once or twice they get stuck and have to push, and Trip has to fight back the tendrils of fear creeping down his neck. He can imagine the weight of the water, and the tons of rock overhead. They haven’t had time for any in-depth  geological survey, they don’t know if this place has earthquake s . It wouldn’t need to be a big one for the whole cave to collapse down on them, to trap them there to die. Trip isn’t claustrophobic. But the dim light, the hiss of the respirators, the jagged edges of the rock pushing in his back and the limp bloody form of his best friend in his arms, the worried face of his captain on the other side, this would be enough to unnerve anybody, he’s pretty sure even T’Pol would be spooked. He keeps his cool though, he isn’t the chief engineer of the first warp 5 starship for nothing. 

Then, suddenly, there is open water in front of him. Still holding on to Malcolm, Trip stops  where they left the oxygen tanks, and lets Archer exchange their used tanks for new ones. They probably would have had the time to get back up with the old ones, even with the decompression stop – a look at his diving watch tells him 10 minutes at 3 meters – but he knows better than to risk it. If they can have a wide margin, they’re gonna take it. Though he knows those ten minutes are going to feel like forever. 

A rcher change s  all their tanks, and they  start making their way to the  surface. The sunlight slowly illuminates them as they slowly swim up. When they get to 3 meters, they can almost make out the platform over their head.  They stay there. Archer and Trip, looking at each other, holding Malcolm’s still form between them. 

As he knew he would, Trip can’t help thinking this is lasting forever, and if Archer’s repeated looks at his watch are to be believed, his captain is thinking the exact same thing. Trip had kind of hope d the natural light would make Malcolm look a bit less dead. It doesn’t, if anything it’s worst. Trip keeps on checking that his friend’s heart is beating, that, whether he’s breathing on his own or not, the mask is getting oxygen into him. There’s a black eye, hair matted with blood… And he’s still not waking up.  There’s some movement now, they have to keep him still, so maybe he’s on the verge of consciousness or something, but… Under the swimming goggle, his eyes are still closed, and the movement lack any coordination, just making it more difficult to keep him  in place between them . Trip can’t wait to get him into Cutler’s and then Phlox’s competent hands, because he’s in over his head, and he just wants his friend to be alright. 

Archer gestures up. Then 10 minutes have gone by. As their heads break water, Cutler’s anxious face meets their own.  Archer gets on the platform first, and they get Malcolm out of the water, Trip following them immediately. 

“Captain.” Cutler says, as she starts assessing Malcolm’s status, “The ship has been attacked, by Romulans. We’ve managed to shake them off for now but they will come back. We need to get back to the Enterprise and get out of there.”

“Casualties?” Archer asks, getting his diving equipment off and helping Trip with his.

“T’Pol said no one died, there is only moderate damage to the ship.”

Cutler is working on Malcolm, getting his mask off, punching him with a few hyposprays. The lieutenant starts coughing, some water coming up. Archer’s hand is on Malcolm’s shoulder, lilting him sideways to help him get the water out.

“Is he gonna be ok, Liz?” asks Trip.

Cutler’s head doesn’t move up from her work but she nods.

“Yes, I think so, at least from the drowning, Phlox will have to check his other injuries, but you got there in time. He should wake up any minute now”

Malcolm’s eyelids flutter open, his grey gaze looks around, unfocused. Then he sees something, freezes, seems to try to crawl back on himself, and starts screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there,
> 
> Did I have a few moments of, oof, this is tiny in here when I wrote that? Could be ;-)
> 
> Hope you liked it, and take care. Comments are life. 
> 
> Cheers
> 
> Toinette


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm flashback.

There is nothing he can do. The shuttle his hurtling downwards, nacelles broken, he’s lost helm control. He’s going to crash. He’s going to crash and then he’s going to drown, because that bloody planet underneath him is covered in water, and he’s going to miss th at island by a couple of meters, and he won’t manage swimming to the shore. He is going to drown. 

He escaped the Romulans, the death trap of a shuttle they had left him in,  disarmed the bomb  that was in there with him , ready to explode on  the Enterprise rescue mission.  He hopes that that way at least he’ll be the only one to die. His captors told him they’d detected the Enterprise. He hopes they were just toying with him, he couldn’t take any more, he’d cracked under pressure, told them how to work the transponder, so that the pain would stop, because he was sure the section would never come for him, that he’d held on long enough,  the  72 hours that  were asked of him. He thought that the information would be useless.  He cannot let them have Enterprise.  He’s seen their weapons, their cloaking device, his ship is outgunned.  He could not stop the transponder, he feels it, painfully beating on his raw neck, so he too k control of the shuttle. 

I t wasn’t easy. He can feel the blood trickling on his hands from the cuts that he made working on the controls.  T he burn on his his forearm from a fail-safe he did not detect in time hurts like hell, but he got it done. He even hoped, for a moment, that he might get out of there with his life. As the water comes nearer and nearer, he knows that he won’t. He’s managed to  mess with the warp trail of the shuttle enough that it will show up on Enteprise’s sensors as an anomaly, give them an edge. And if he dies on impact, the transponder should stop emitting. He’ll have died doing his job as an armoury officer, protecting his crew. Not  as  a spy killing people from behind, hiding in the shadows and then letting his crew down. If he could die on impact, it wouldn’t be so bad. But he’s piloted a little too well, the speed tells him he’s got a good chance of surviving the crash, only to die drowning. 

The shuttle hits the water, it goes down, fast. There is water, everywhere around, he tries to hold on to something, but he can’t, there is a hole in the front of the shuttle, he manages to breath in,  then  the current grabs him, he’s under water. There’s water in his mouth, he kicks, upwards, at least he thinks it’s upwards. It doesn’t make any different. The current takes him. There ’s stone all around him, next to the water, he’s in a cave, he can’t move upwards, the rocks are opening his skin.  H ere and there, there are some small pockets of air, and he grabs everything he can get, he swallows water at the same time, and his lungs burn, but he needs the air. The water is cold, his fingers and feet are already numb. He guesses it’s better than the pain from the salt entering his wounds. 

The air pockets, there are less and less of them as he gets deeper into the cave. This one time, he almost think he’s gonna breath in water, and he knows that would be his death, but he really, really, cannot help it, then there is some air for a little bit, as the cave tunnel goes wider for a  couple of meters . He wishes he could stay there, but the current is carrying him onwards, under water again, he doesn’t see anything, it’s completely dark now, even his hands are beyond his range, he knows he could get stuck, the tunnel might get too tight anytime, and then he will die stuck inside a tunnel, drowned underground.  N o one will ever know what happened to him, he doesn’t even know what kind of fish  will eat his flesh. 

T he tunnel doesn’t  get tighter. It widens, as Malcolm desperately holds his breath. Then there is nothing on top of him anymore, the current goes upwards (at least he thinks it’s upwards), his lungs are burning, the pain overcomes all, he kicks, reflexively,  and feels the push of the current. His head breaks through and there is air again. He breathes in, and coughs, and breathes in again. He still can’t see a thing. He must still be underground. He manages to grab onto a jaded piece of rock, to keep his head over water. 

He’s cold. He’s tired. He knows he won’t last long. He knows his burnt, tired arm, won’t keep him over the water for very much longer. He’s going to let go, and then he will drown, for good this time. There is absolutely nothing he can do about it. There is no way he can get out of there. He should just  open up his hand and let go now. He can feel the transponder, still beating in his neck.  If he dies, it stops, the Enterprise will stop searching. Archer won’t risk lives to recover a dead body. He should do it. Just like he did last time they met Romulans. He would have died from lack of air then, ripped his oxygen line directly from his suit, he would die from lack of air now. Not that different. It would be the right thing to do. Hanging on now is just delaying the inevitable, and it’s putting other people at risk. 

Truth is, he can’t. It would be anything else, he could do it, he thinks, he hopes. But he would be drowning. He just can’t. He’s felt the water near his lungs already, the absolute panic that filled his mind, the pain, worst than… He just can’t. He won’t hold that much longer, he can’t, but his hands won’t obey him when he asks them to let go now. He will never know how many lives his cowardice will have cost. But he really, really can’t let go.

The water is rising. Oh, god, the water is rising. Even if his hand doesn’t weaken and he holds on, he’s going to die, because the water is rising. He pushes himself upwards, his numb, numb, legs, not even trembling anymore, still get him up. And his head hits the ceiling. He doesn’t have the strength to move, to look for higher ground, for more air. He shouldn’t, anyway. The sooner he dies, the better, for everyone, maybe even himself. So he waits.

The water goes up, and up. His hand starts trembling. He wonders what’s going to happen first, his hand lacking strength or the water getting too high to breathe. It’s a close thing, but his hand gives way first. By a few seconds, his head craned upwards towards the ceiling to gasp some air. He flails, desperately, trying to keep his head over the water. He goes under. There’s water, everywhere, he’s going to die, in minutes, he doesn’t want to die. He really doesn’t want to die. Things are moving around, splashing. His own arms and legs are moving around. The strength diminishes, and diminishes, and then he knows he won’t make it, and, finally, he stops moving. The darkness inside replaces that of the cave. He knows no more.

* * *

He isn’t dead. He should be dead, but he isn’t dead. There is air going in and out of his lungs, but there is still water around him. This doesn’t make sense, he can’t breathe under water.  Then the water isn’t there anymore.  The breathing still seems to be done from outside. Something is pushing air into him, and it is not an enjoyable experience. There are hands all over him. He can’t move. The mask is taken off and there is water coming out of him, out of his mouth, his nose, his lungs, it burns, he coughs, and it burns. 

T here isn’t enough air coming through. He can’t breath e . He got out, but he still can’t breath e . There is a pressure on his arm, something going through his veins. He is more awake, more alert, he can feel the pain. The Romulans, his brain provides. They must have caught him. He can’t resist them any longer. They know he is broken. They know he is scared of drowning. They will use water. There is a hand on his back, pushing. He opens his eyes, but it’s too bright, it hurts, and there is still the sea all around him. There is screaming. He is screaming. He tries to flee but he can’t. They’re holding him down. 

“Mazzoli, get me the hypospray, third one from the right in the medkit, the blue one. Captain, Commander, hold him down.”

The pressure gets stronger, he really can’t move now. He’s breathing in fast gasps, there are gurgling noise coming from his throat.  He fights against it, against the hypospray but still feel the hiss going through his upper arm. Then he can’t fight anymore, there is an artificial calm falling over him, he hates it, but he can’ t fight it. The noise in his ears seems to quiet down. Then there are blue eyes in front of his face, masking the harsh sun. They’re not the same blue as the sea. They are lighter, clearer. Romulans don’t have blue eyes, he remembers.  They hid their face but he saw their eyes, and they didn’t have blue eyes.  The voice he can now hear has an accent he would recognise everywhere. His body relaxes. It’s Trip.  And Trip means safety. He thinks he may be falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, 
> 
> How did you like this little dive into Malcolm's head? Terrible pun totally intended. Come yell at me about it in the comments (and also tell me what you thought about the chapter.)
> 
> Cheers
> 
> Toinette


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going back to the ship. POV Archer then Tucker

Archer has had to move away from his officers to listen to T’Pol’s report on the com m . They need to get out, and they need to get out, fast. Romulan ships have been detected on sensors.  Whe they get there, the Enterprise w ill be hopelessly outgunned. They could maybe ask for back up, the Andorian fleet isn’t that far away, but Archer really doesn’t want to be the one starting a war, even as he starts thinking it  m ay be hard to avoid. 

“Mazzoli” he tells the wounded MACO “Can you get the platform engine on?”

“Yes, captain”

She does, and they make their way back to the shore. Archer takes one look at Trip and Cutler, kneeling next to Malcolm.

“Stay with him.” He orders. With Mazzoli’s help, he packs the few things they can’t leave behind. Most of their equipment and the platform will be left here. It’s not ideal, but they don’t have time to do otherwise.

He hear Trip ask:

“Is he… d’ya think he’ll be okay?” Trip’s voice is scared. Archer knows his friend has lost too much. He’s not sure how much better his own voice sound, and he’s always been better at  these things that Trip. Despite everything, that happened, Trip is still the kind, sensitive, somewhat childish man that Archer met all those years ago. Despite everything, he’s still hurt by the general unfairness of the universe. Sometimes  Archer envies him that  ability . Days like today, he’s not so sure.

“Yes. Yes, sir.” He hears Cutler say.  He can hear the manufactured certainty in her voice. She’s doing her job, and she’s doing  it well, but she’s no doctor. If it weren’t for the risk of an attack they would have brought down Phlox. But they could not risk the crew being without a doctor at such a dangerous time, and after  hearing T’Pol’s casualty report, Archer thinks they made the right decision. 

They get to shore. Mazzoli leans on Archer,  while Cutler and Trip carry in a half-conscious Malcolm. Archer helps the MACO sit down, then, on his way to his pilot seat, puts a hand on Trip’s arm. Trip will stay with Reed. It’s better if the man isn’t left alone after what he’s just been through, and the light of the shuttle clearly shows the extent of  his injuries. Not to mentioned  that his worst fear just came true. 

Archer ha s known  for year that Malcolm  is scared of water, scared of drowning, more precisely. If he had any doubts about how bad it was, the terror he’s just seen in his officer’s eyes  is proof enough.  Archer hasn’t told anyone. Unless it becomes absolutely vital, he won’t betray that trust. One of his men has  been torture d – that much i s clear – and then has gone through what was essentially his worst nightmare. Not technically under his watch, but  Jonathan still knows he has some responsibility there.  He goes through pre-flight list and starts the shuttle. 

He asked Malcolm to work for Harris again, last year. That decision, he knows he would probably make again. The stakes were too high. He let him go to repay the debt, five months ago. And that decision, he regrets. He’ s not sure he could have stopped Malcolm, short of giving him a direct order, but he could have done that. At any rate, he should have tried harder. He made that decision in part to insure he could have the option to ask for Harris’s help, should they need it. He doesn’t like the man, but it was an option he didn’t want off the table. Sending his officers to danger for the good of the ship was part of his job as captain. This was no different. 

In a sense it’s true, he’s had crewmembers being captured, even tortured before – including Malcolm, his guilty conscience provides – but he was there taking the risks as well. Probably more than a captain is supposed to, some  (Malcolm, again) would say. And it was clear that he would not leave anyone behind.  T hat part of the promise  between a captain and his crew , he  has not keep, as far as Malcolm is concerned. Because if Harris hadn’t decided he was an asset, Archer would have never known of his fate.  Jonathan Archer will not make that mistake again. He won’t ever let Malcolm get back under Harris’s thumb. 

As they reach the windiest part of the atmosphere, Archer has to concentrate back on his piloting, as the little ship is tossed around.

* * *

Trip isn’t sure what he can do. He helped Cutler get Malcolm out of his cold, wet rags and wrap him in all kinds of blankets, and now the ship’s started rocking around like dice in a cone, and Cutler has asked him to keep his friend still and so he’s holding on to him. It ain’t exactly easy to do without hurting him with all the scraps, burns, cuts, and bruises that decorate the man’s body. They just put some stuff on the wall to make it softer and he’s sorta holding Malcolm’s shoulders, facing him.

Trip’s not entirely sure how aware of his surrounding the lieutenant actually is, he seems to be going in and out of consciousness, and to look real scared every time he wakes up. Cutler said his voice seemed to help, and to keep on talking to him, so he does. What he says, he’s not quite sure. He tells him he’s safe, they’re getting him back to Enterprise, they missed him. He tells him about power fluctuations in the starboard warp nacelles,  about pecan pie and pineapple cake, about how shore leave was dull even if that woman he met was really beautiful and kind. He chatters on, and it seems to work, Cutler says  s he’s drugged  Malcolm up quite a bit, so there’s no way he’s gonna be coherent right now, but he doesn’t look as much like a deer in the headlights as a few minutes earlier. And even through the turbulences, which finally stop as they reach space and the Enterprise, he hasn’t bumped his head on anything. 

T his is one of those times Trip is real happy to see Phlox. He wishes he could stay, make sure Malcolm will be ok. But they have Romulans on their tail, and he’s needed in Engineering. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer, on the ship.

Archer sits down heavily on his chair in his quarter. He’s exhausted. It’s been  three days since they got Malcolm out of that cave, and they’ve just managed to get back to a safer part of space, Andorian space, as it happens, the alliance, in full effect, granting the protection of the Imperial Guard.  He’s read Malcolm’s report on his mission, and forwarded it to the appropriate channels,  so that the Section, who already has the information from before Malcolm was caught, won’t be the only one to be aware of what’s going on.

Malcolm wrote his report while still in sickbay, agains t direct medical advice, but after reading it, Archer can’t really blame the man. The kind of information he’s uncovered is explosive. It looks like the Romulans are preparing for war, and are well on their way to launching an attack on their coalition of planets. Coridan, its large dilithium reserves and lack of any defence force appear to be first in line. This isn’t going to make it easy, since despite having cordial relations with their alliance, they are still neutral. Archer can’t help but spare a thought about Belgium and Earth’s first two world wars. This does not look promising. He hopes the information Malcolm brought them – and he supposes he wasn’t the only active agent – might be enough to scare Coridan into a firmer alliance. 

A t least, Malcolm will be ok. He wasn’t so sure, the first time he entered sick bay, two days ago, to find a frighteningly pale Lieutenant in a dimmed room, his eyes too sensitive to light from some sort of torture device that had been used on him,  feverish. Phlox assured him the damage was temporary, at leas physically, and it appears now that the  Denobulan physician was right, as often (but not always, remember Sim,  Archer tells himself). 

Archer wishes he could leave a commendation in his officer’s file. He can’t, of course, the mission was far too secret for that, and he’s aware that he already knows far more than he’s supposed to. He wishes he could because the Lieutenant deserves it. But also because he thinks Malcolm might need to hear this, and his verbal assurances won’t be enough, he knows that. He’s read Reed’s report, the dry, professional, detached tone of it, and even in the dryness, he could read his armoury’s officer guilt at having talked. At having broken down under torture. He held on for over 72 hours, which is apparently what is asked of agents. Archer has also read Phlox’s report on the Lieutenant’s injuries. 72 hours in this circumstances is far more that should be asked of anyone. He’s told him as much. But he’s not sure it’ll stick. 

There is one last thing Archer needs to do before he can finally sleep. One last debt he has to pay to his officer, even if it can’t ever really be enough. He’s calling Harris. He has sent him the report already, and he knows Malcolm will have to go through debriefing with a whole bunch of people over subspace, but he’s going to make damn sure that this is the last time his officer has anything to do with the man, with the section. He can and will send people into danger again. But not in situations where their lives are seen as easily expendable, not worth the effort to try and save. He won’t let others solely pay the price of the tough decisions he, as a captain, will still have to make.

The call connects quickly, and it is quite obvious that  Harris isn’t surprised to see him. Or maybe it’s just a facade, Archer honestly doesn’t know,  and he doesn’t care. He’s had enough of the man’s game s . They exchange what passes for pleasantries in the Section and Archer has to admit  the agent makes his skin scrawl. 

“ Well, all well’s that ends well, captain. It would have been to bad to lose such a skilled operative, the information he brought back is extremely valuable to the future of Earth and the Coalition of Planets.  I’m sure you can see the use of having someone with that set of skills out in deep space.”

“He’s one of the best officer I’ve ever had.” Archer can agree on that much.

“Well, captain, I hope to have the pleasure to work with you again in the future.”

Harris smiles. Archer’s face takes a cold, hard expression.

“We won’t, Harris. This is the last time you’re ever contacting my officer.”

“I thought the Terra Prime incident had taught you never to say never, captain. Sometimes the type of operation we run is needed, and as I was saying, Reed’s work will prove essential to the survival of this planet we both love so much.”

“ Oh, intelligence gathering may be needed, Harris, but I’m telling you, Reed will not ever work for the section again. I’ll never ask that of him again, and I’ll order him to refuse to work with you.”

Harris smiles, and ends the conversation. Archer knows he has not been believed, but he will keep his word. And he will go through all the information from Malcolm’s report, all the logs from his several interactions with the man. If it comes to that, he’ll release it to the press, even if it means risking his own career, before throwing his officer to the wolves again.

With a sigh, he calls Porthos. The beagle answer the call – he does not fetch but he does cuddle – and in the dog’s simple affection, Archer finds the calm he needs to finally fall asleep.  Tomorrow there may be war, but for now, his crew is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks,
> 
> For some reason, I really like writing Archer. I hope you liked reading this chapter ;-)
> 
> Take care
> 
> Toinette


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Just out of sickbay, Malcolm is hating how exhausted, how weak he still feels. Even if his wounds have been treated by Phlox, and none of them were really serious, he still feels sore. He’s cold all the time – like he needed to experience hypothermia, again, even a much milder case than last time, because now he’s got a comparison point. He’s still coughing a bit and the drugs Phlox has him on to treat the lung infection that had started from the water that got in there – because he drowned, he can’t help remembering, with a shudder that doesn’t stem from how cold he’s feeling – well those drugs are making him queasy. His stomach is hardly his friend at the best of times, with all the motion sickness he deals with on a regular basis here in space, but right now even the pineapple shortbread Chef has made and left on his bed for his release from sickbay is not settling too well. More than everything, he tires easily, and his uneasy sleep, populated by nightmares that have him waking up gasping for air, aren’t making anything better. 

Phlox says all of it is natural, that he needs time to recover, that he went through a lot but it will all settle down in a little while. He still refuses to give him a date for when he’ll be allowed back on duty, and when Malcolm asked for some sort of estimate,  the “oh, about two weeks Lieutenant”  brought him a healthy dose of despair.  He  can’t wait for two weeks. The boredom alone would kill him, and he  is needed on the bridge. Choudi  is a competent officer, no doubt  but she is still young, she transferred from the Columbia so she hasn’t been to the Expanse with them and they  are heading for war. He ha s more experience with the tactical station in battle than anyone else on the ship. 

They  are looking at war, and Earth  is still underprepared. His mission ha s taught him the Romulans ha ve a few of the ships that attacked Enterprise, and with him having been discovered and captured,  Earth and its allies might not have as much time as they could have otherwise to implement countermeasures. If he’d run just a little faster, fought a little harder he might have escaped capture. If he hadn’t talked, the Romulans might have underestimated Earth a little more. His weakness might well cause deaths. He need s to prevent as many of those as he  can . He need s to be back on the bridge of the Enterprise. 

His door chimes. Who can that be, he wonders. He gets up and feels his stomach lurch at the movement, which does nothing to improve his mood. He opens the door. “Come in”

On the other side is the broad figure of Charles “Trip” Tucker III, visibly hiding something behind his back, eyes downcast and looking a bit bashful.

“ Err, evening, Malcolm.”

“Evening, Trip. Come on in, sit down.”

Even tired as he is, Malcolm is still glad to see Trip. The man is his friend, and he owes him, Archer and Cutler his life. He’s presented his thanks to the previous two already, but he wasn’t quite lucid enough to do so properly when the commander came to see him in sickbay, a few days ago.  The fact that he dislikes the amount of personal risk the ship’s captain and chief engineer took to rescue him does not mean those things shouldn’t be said. 

Trip sits, and pushes two bottles in front of him:

“I didn’t know if you could drink alcohol, so I brought root beer. Finally managed to get some from a passing freighter.”

Malcolm probably hasn’t hidden his grimace as  well as he thought he had. 

“Ya don’t have to drink it if ya don’t like it, Mal.”

Malcolm isn’t actually sure he’s ever tasted the thing. It doesn’t look remotely appealing, and from what he remembers from having seen some people drink one before at the 602 club, it smells even worst.  If he tries to drink that, he’s going to throw up. 

“Thank you for bringing it, Trip but I’m going to have to decline for tonight, I’m afraid. The drugs I’m on are not agreeing with my stomach. That’s the price to pay to not be covered in Phlox’s odd creatures, I presume”, he adds, although there ha s been a fair share of that.

“I’m sorry, I shoulda thought...’

“Oh don’t worry, I will try your concoction at some point, Commander, but for tonight, I’ll make tea, if that’s alright.”

Tea is about the only thing he thinks he can keep down, and he does need to drink something.

“Yeah, tea’s fine.”

Malcolm makes the tea, then they drink, in silence, for a while. Both start speaking at the same time. Malcolm tells Trip to go ahead. 

“I’m damn happy yer back Malcolm. We missed you, those five months,  and… and I’m, damn, I’m glad you made it out alive… I… I’m sorry you had to go through all that, I know, if it weren’t for Elizabeth, you… you wouldn’t have had to.”

“ None of this was your fault, Trip.  Thanks for getting me out.  You and the captain took a lot of risks. ”

“I’m just glad it worked. I’m just…, yeah.”

They  drink for a little while longer.  Malcolm shifts in his seat, his sore muscles and raw nerve ending bothering him. 

“Ya ok? You look aweful.”

“Yes, just a bit sore, really.”

Trip put a hand on Malcolm’s arm, looking at him directly in the eyes. Malcolm looks straight back in those blue eyes, the first sure tell he’ s had that he was safe again, the only thing he sees there is friendship, concern, and maybe a hint of misplaced guilt. 

“ I just want to be back on duty.” He says. “Being cooped up in here, it’s driving me bonkers. But I can’t even run a lap before being exhausted. We’re on the brink of war, and I’m completely useless. What kind of an armoury officer am I?”

“The best kind, Mal. Certainly the best I’ve ever met. I know I’m gonna sound like Phlox, but ya need time. Ya got tortured and then ya drowned for fuck’s sake. It’d take anyone a while to get back from that. You’re only human, Lieutenant.” Trip smiles.

Like he’s going to forget the pain, or how he talked, or how he almost drowned. He can still feel the water all around him, the cave on top of him, how he couldn’t breathe, how he didn’t know if what he’d said had caused the death of all of his crew, how he thought he’d never know.

“Hey, Malcolm. Malcolm!” Trip’s voice get louder. “Come on, Mal, stay with me.  Breathe.”

He manages to calm himself down. Ha s he almost passed out? And when  did Trip g et so close? The engineer is kneeling next to his chair, hesitating at his comm. Probably trying to figure out if he should comm Phlox. 

Malcolm groans. Apparently, he can’t even drink tea with his mate without panicking. A fine example of a courageous Star Fleet officer.  Which he’s apparently said out loud. Bloody hell. 

“You’re one of the bravest men I know, Mal. And the people I know include  a whole lotta crazy test-pilot.”

“I talked, Trip. I told them what they wanted to know. And it could have killed you. All of you.”

“We fought the Romulans, Mal. They didn’t know our shield frequencies. They didn’t know how our cannon worked, or our precise engines specifications, we wouldn’t have survived if they had.  Ya know all these things. I’m pretty sure they would have wanted to know  them . And even if you did spill some stuff… I saw the state you were in when we got you back, Mal. You can’t ask anybody to not break even a little bit through that much.”

“I should have…”

“Nothing Mal. Ya went above and beyond like you always do. We have all that intel about the Romulans because of you. We might have an actual chance of winning if it comes to war.”

Malcolm can’t help but think there might not be a war so close on the horizon if it weren’t for his mistakes, but he knows he won’t convince Trip who’s got that stubborn expression on his face that he so often wears when they argue about power allocations. He’s too exhausted to argue anyway. The conversation moves back to what happened to the ship in his absence, as they finish the tea. Malcolm starts to nod off. Trip notices and say his goodbyes.

“You’re gonna be ok, on your own?” he asks, and Malcolm nods.

The armoury officer doesn’t sleep well that night, but it’s not as bad as the previous one. Trip is there the next day offering to watch a movie. The day after that, Travis and Hoshi appear with a deck of cards, and a few days later, he manages to eat some of Chef’s cake without feeling like he’s going to throw up. Ten days later, he’s back on light duties.

“Glad to have you back” says Archer, when he walks on the bridge, and around the end of his shift, there’s a smirking Southerner hovering around his station with root beer and some real alcohol, just to welcome him back. He hates the root beer but the bourbon isn’t so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> This is it! I did it, managed to write a story for the Drown Malcolm Reed Month and have it posted on time ;-). 
> 
> I hoped it was to your liking, I certainly enjoyed writing it!. Thanks a lot to the people who read, left kudos and commented - a special thanks to Scottie_is_Impatient in particular for the many comments !
> 
> Live long and prosper
> 
> Toinette, over and out.


End file.
